I’ve heard people say they like mundane work.
That, to them, monotony is like meditation.
Sounds like madness to me.
I don’t do well with the mundane.
I find it, well, boring.
I suppose it is kind of built into the meaning of the word.
Anytime I have to do something that requires zero mental stimulation, my mind starts shouting like the Preacher in Ecclesiastes. “Meaningless! Meaningless! This is all Meaningless!”
But, just like the Preacher, I’ve learned that there can be purpose in what seems pointless.
That there can be profound meaning in the mundane.
From my earliest childhood memories, I’ve been good at making connections and assigning meaning. I feel deeply and think emotionally, searching for something more in even the most pedestrian moments. I feel most at home when I’m asking the big questions, more comfortable in the depths than just skimming the surface. Wonder comes as naturally to me as breathing.
One of my wife’s favorite bits of wisdom is to “be where your feet are.”
Sometimes it’s hard to be present when your mind is always on the move.
I’ve made a conscious effort this year to be more mindful, to take care of the more tedious tasks, and, honestly, let my brain get a little bored sometimes. I’ve let myself slow down and have taken my foot off the gas mentally. I’ve spent more time reading, walking, enjoying. I’ve been trying to look up and appreciate the people and things and circumstances that surround me. Even in the midst of stress, I’ve tried to be more centered.
A funny thing has happened. The more I’ve stopped trying to chase what I thought was important, the more important the things right in front of me have proved to be.
Maybe there is meaning in the mundane.
I just need to stop searching long enough to find it.